


Killer Instinct

by lynnmonster



Category: Jonathan Creek (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnmonster/pseuds/lynnmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It figured the one time he got excited in her bedroom, he'd be talking about a case.  (Set shortly prior to "House of Monkeys.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killer Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Andraste

 

 

"Psssst. Maddy." The susurration of her sheets being pulled aside and the shifting of the mattress beside her didn't really register with Maddy.

" _Mmmmm_ , Jonathan."

"Yes, it's Jonathan, now shove over."

"Ohhhh, yes." Maddy was certain that she'd never had a better night. This time, she'd been the one to solve the puzzle, and her previously all-too-aloof partner was doing wicked things to her neck with his tongue as the Lord Mayor presented her with the key to the city and ABBA reunited to give a special performance in her honor. The refrain of "Dancing Queen" swelled as rose petals fell from the sky like confetti, and somehow Jonathan was simultaneously gazing at her in awed admiration and nibbling on her earlobe while groping her breasts. She shifted away from something annoying and then a lorry carrying her Pulitzer Prize in a brightly-lit display case caught her attention. She tried to run after it, but she could hardly move, what with the Lord Mayor and ABBA and Jonathan all clutching at her, holding her back. "Wait up! Wait--"

"Are you even awake?" Jonathan asked.

"Huh?" Maddy blinked and instead of the First Worldwide Maddy Magellan Festival, all she saw was her messy bedroom, and Jonathan. Who was in her bed. And talking to her. He had his head propped on his hand, one elbow resting on a pillow. His fingers were tangled in his curls, and he was looking at her with something like fondness as he asked her again if she was back in the world of the living. At times, Maddy reflected, Jonathan looked like nothing so much as a charmingly smug cherub.

"Jonathan, what _are_ you doing here?"

He grinned at her and titled his face towards hers. "Don't you want to know how they did it?"

And sometimes he just looked like a socially maladjusted right little prat, she thought sourly.

"Go on then." She sighed and turned onto her side to face him fully. "Dazzle me," she said dryly. Jonathan's eyes lit up and he started tracing out floorplans on the duvet, apparently eager to share his deductions for once. It figured the one time he got excited in her bedroom, he'd be talking about a case.

"So, according to Jenkins, the car with the body in the trunk was on the fifth level of the parking lot, right? But he wasn't the one to press the button in the elevator. So if Martins pushed four _and_ five, having already disabled the light behind the button on #4, they could have exited on the pre-prepared fourth level, with false signs put up to cover the real ones, and as the car was right in front of the elevator, he wouldn't have noticed any small discrepancies between the surrounding cars. All those people have Range Rovers these days, anyway."

Maddy yawned.

"Oh, am I boring you? I can always let you figure the rest out yourself, if you prefer."

"Don't be an idiot, Jonathan," Maddy grumbled. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Uh, almost four-thirty?"

Maddy slapped him on the arm. "And you're surprised that I'm tired? I need a cup of tea, since I'm obviously not getting any more sleep tonight. Want one?"

"Only if you have a clean mug. A _clean_ mug, not just a rinsed-out one."

"Listen, you. At 4:30 in the morning, you'll take a dirty mug from me and like it." Maddy got awkwardly out of bed, disentangling her nightgown, which had wound around her lower half. No wonder she hadn't been able to chase that lorry. She teetered, and a large, gentle hand shot out and steadied her.

Sometimes she really hated him. But he always made it impossible for her to remain miffed at him for long.

Maddy continued on, purposely ignoring Jonathan's mild gallantry, and stumbled her way into the kitchen, automatically stepping over the petrol can. The coldness of the floor helped wake her up a little, but it was uncomfortable. She put the kettle on and rinsed out two of the mugs that had been sitting on the countertop.

She yawned. She tapped her foot. She made a face and then cleaned both mugs properly, with hot water and washing-up liquid and everything. She imagined Jonathan's smirk at the bottom of each mug and scrubbed vigorously. "I'm going to kill him," she muttered. She wondered if he'd fall asleep in her bed before she got back. The electric kettle beeped and she poured the hot water into the mugs, only sloshing a little over the sides.

She left the teabags in the mugs and carried them back to her room. Jonathan wasn't asleep, but he was looking awfully ragged. He took the tea with a grateful smile, but spoiled the effect by checking out the mug and sniffing before taking a sip.

Maddy ignored him and got back into bed, setting her mug down on the nightstand. She settled in, trying to unobtrusively wriggle a little closer.

"Oh my god, Jonathan! Your feet are like blocks of ice!"

"Well, I was lurking around a car park all night. Doing a favor for _you_ , I might add. What did you expect?"

"I didn't expect to wake up with you crawling into my bed!" screeched Maddy, kicking his feet away from her.

"Ow! Your toenails are like daggers, you know that? Do you cut them into points on purpose?"

He seemed genuinely curious, but Maddy didn't care. "So, what's this about the parking levels?" she prompted, congratulating herself on a deft change of subject. Jonathan's face lit up and he returned to his explanation.

"So Jenkins thinks it's on the _fifth_ floor, and he calls the police as soon as Martins allows him to 'escape' -- and of course the police find _nothing_ , automatically suspecting Jenkins of feeding them a false story to throw them off his own trail. After his wild tale, their efforts are concentrated on him, of course, and his longstanding grudge against Martins is well known. So Martins' accomplice -- the lovely Cheryl --"

Maddy spat her mouthful of tea back into her mug and slammed it back down onto the nightstand, "The nanny?!?" she interrupted. "That tart?"

"Do you want me to go on? Right then. As I was saying, his accomplice Cheryl, the nanny, has plenty of time to switch around the props on the fourth level before the police get around to cordoning off the area or investigating other floors."

Maddy nodded reluctantly. "And, of course, Martins might not have anything in particular against Jenkins -- other than the fact that Jenkins resented him -- but Cheryl and Jenkins have a torrid past or something, don't they?"

Jonathan nodded, apparently unimpressed that she'd deduced the truth from the nuances of Cheryl's behavior. Maddy thought she deserved rather more credit than that, but Jonathan was acting as if it were a readily apparent fact.

"So the combined motivations of revenge and profit drove our pair to murder, just to frame Jenkins," she concluded.

"Well, yes," said Jonathan.

"Great," she said briskly. "So. We'll swing round later this morning, rattle some cages, expose them in front of the appropriate authorities?"

Jonathan nodded slowly. "That's what I was thinking, yes."

"Well, we have no chance of catching anyone awake for hours yet. The alarm's set for eight. There are blankets and extra pillows in the armoire -- you can fix up the couch easily enough, can't you?" Maddy asked archly. She took a little mean satisfaction in Jonathan's look of surprise. She reached under the covers and quickly grabbed his foot, and he let out a startled squeak. "Oh! You're still half-frozen. I suppose you _could_ stay here, if you prefer."

He looked at her balefully, but at least he didn't roll his eyes. For some reason, she just couldn't resist baiting him. Frustrated was a good look on him. She felt a smile spread across her face, and was surprised and pleased to see an answering grin tug at the corner of his lips.

There was something real there, something warm, in the way he was looking at her, there _was_. She was a talented journalist, for heaven's sake, and she knew people. People who were indifferent to other people didn't look at them like that, not all soft and sleepy and reluctantly amused.

Things were suddenly looking up. "Back in a moment," she chirped, and scrambled off to the loo. She ran a brush through her hair and pursed her lips in the mirror, trying out a few different expressions. She pinched her cheeks to stinging pinkness, and wiped the last of the crusted sleep out of her eyes. She smoothed her nightgown and undid the top three buttons, then redid the lowest of the three, running her hands over the swell of her bust in anticipation. One last nod at herself in the mirror, and she walked out with a practiced saunter.

Jonathan had turned around, facing the spot she'd vacated. His back was to her, so she knelt by the bed, running a hand along his side and leaning over him. "Jon-a-than..." she sing-songed into his ear. He didn't respond. Upon reflection, she supposed she deserved that. "I have a naughty i-de-a..." She leaned further forward, trying to catch his eyes. Eyes which were distinctly shut, dreams creating a flicker of motion beneath his closed lids.

"Jonathan?" she whispered. "Jonathan!"

He snorted and rolled onto his back, mouth falling open, and started to snore.

He had better be ready for another murder mystery when the alarm went off in three hours, because she was _definitely_ going to kill him.

 


End file.
